Hans had seated himself and was looking earnestly into her face.
He arose and, in almost a whisper, asked, "Have you ever tried,
Mother?"

She understood him.

"Yes, child, often. But the father only laughs, or he stares at
me so strange that I am glad to ask no more. When you and Gretel
had the fever last winter, and our bread was nearly gone, and I
could earn nothing, for fear you would die while my face was
turned, oh! I tried then! I smoothed his hair and whispered to
him soft as a kitten, about the money--where it was, who had it?
Alack! He would pick at my sleeve and whisper gibberish till my
blood ran cold. At last, while Gretel lay whiter than snow, and
you were raving on the bed, I screamed to him--it seemed as if he
MUST hear me--'Raff, where is our money? Do you know aught of
the money, Raff? The money in the pouch and the stocking, in
the big chest?' But I might as well have talked to a stone. I
might as--"

The mother's voice sounded so strange, and her eye was so bright,
that Hans, with a new anxiety, laid his hand upon her shoulder.

"Come, Mother," he said, "let us try to forget this money. I am
big and strong. Gretel, too, is very quick and willing. Soon
all will be prosperous with us again. Why, Mother, Gretel and I
would rather see thee bright and happy than to have all the
silver in the world, wouldn't we, Gretel?"

"The mother knows it," said Gretel, sobbing.